Turn the Lights Out When You Leave

My eyes squinted at the bright light pouring into the room. In terribly, bright, white beams of light poured in through the bay window I appearantly had failed to notice last night. I moved slowly, taking my hand out from under the side of Alan's cheek as he lay sleeping. I maneuvered myself out from under the covers and brought my feet down carefully, onto the hard wooden flooring that was throughout most the rented home. I took a peek back at Alan who continued to snooze away. I grabbed my scattered clothes and bag and hurried off to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I put my clothes back on then I faced the mirror and noticed the eyeliner I put on last night had creased itself in an unattractive way under my eyes and gave me the appearance of a raccoon mask. I grabbed a bar of soap and splashed some water on my face and scrubbed. And all the while as I cleaned my face, I couldn't help but flashback to last night. It was exctasy. I felt whole, balanced, like for the first time in my life, I had everything I needed in that bedroom. Alan cared so much and was so careful not to hurt me or make me uncomfortable. And this man who made me feel all these things... he was perfect.



But for some reason even as much as I had enjoyed myself, I wanted to start praying like a catholic. I had slept with someone else's man that had been together for some 40-odd years. I then suddenly flashed back to Alan's question last night.



"How many times have you done this?"



It rang through my head. Yes, it was true, I had done it a few times, about 5 actually. But the part about not having done it in a long time, I was thanking God, he never asked why. It'd be pretty awkward if I had told him the entire truth. Like, "It's been a long time because I haven't had sex since I was raped and my son was concieved.". I didn't need his charity or pity. And I definitely didn't need anybody's fake pity. I looked at myself in the mirror, after my face was clean. I was counting my blessings I didn't have a hang over, then I thought quickly the possibility this might've all been a dream. Maybe we didn't do anything, and it was just some fantastic fangirl crush dream gone into overdrive. The type of dream you wake from occasionally, but you can still feel it, and you want to go back to sleep as soon as possible. I noticed how dirty and wrinkled my clothes were and tried to brush them straight with my hands. Oh well, it's not like it mattered, I was just going to hop in a cab and go back to my temporary home away from home. I looked through my make up bag and pulled out my base, concealer, compact, mascara and brown eye liner. After quickly putting my face together I shoved everything back in my bag and proceeded quietly to the living room to use the phone. I took the cordless phone off the base and held it in my hand. I glanced once more at the picture on the stand that the phone had come from. Rima's eyes stared at me and I felt extremely guilty, and as a sinner, I would leave and promise myself never to do this again... even if I really, really wanted to. I looked at the phone in my hand and pressed the on button.



"Who are you trying to call this early in the morning?"



I dropped the phone and looked over at the doorway, only to see Alan dressed in blue boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. No point in lying now.



"Sorry, I was just going to call a cab and catch a ride home." I said, as I stooped down and picked up the phone from the carpet. He looked a little dishearted.



"Eager to leave so soon?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "But I still have a bottle of wine left." He added chuckling, removing all doubt from my mind that last night, was not a dream.



"Actually I think I'm going to quit drinking." I smiled as I looked at the phone. It was an awkward moment, usually the men I slept with turned out to be one night stands that either dropped me off at home or left as soon as the deed was done and their shoes were back on their feet.



"I don't understand why. You're absolutely charming when you're all liquored up." He smiled and brushed his fingers through his bangs. I smiled back, blushing. I was so ashamed at how I acted.



"All the more reason for me to go." I pressed 3 digits in quickly already knowing a cab company's phone number that I've had to use numerous times since I've been here, when Alan walked over and snatched the phone out of my hand. I looked at him with my mouth dropped open. He turned the phone off. "What was that for?" I asked as I stood up and tried reaching for the phone as he held it over my head. He was 6'1" easily, my 5'9" frame was not about to get that phone back as high as he held it from me. I found myself in a game of keep away, which I was sorely losing. My arms flailed for his one raised in the air.



"It is customary, that you be treated like a guest in my home." He said.



"The guest doesn't get to use the phone?" I asked incredulously. He smiled and hid it with both hands behind his back.



"At the moment, no, knowing all my guest wants to do is leave me after an incredible night." I blushed again as he spoke, his voice sent tingling up my spine. "The guest is going to dispose of her bag in my bedroom and come back out and join me for breakfest. We'll talk and discuss things there." I continued reaching for the phone pressing my body closely, up against his, making sure he felt everything. His breathing became a little more erratic, and it became more appearant I was getting to him. Just as he let his free-hand wander to my backside, smiling deviously, I immediately took a step back and turned for the bedroom. He let out a breath of air quickly and eased the phone down on the counter. As I left them room I heard him laugh a little to himself as he threw open a kitchen cabinet and let a songle phrase slip out of his mouth.



"Fascinating woman..."



I smiled at the comment and found myself staring back into the bedroom looking at the bed and found myself wanting to just lie back down on it and never leave its comfort again. But I sighed and dropped the bag to the floor, then I felt my fingers rubbing together the hem of the shirt I was wearing. I hated wearing the same thing two days in a row, unless of course I had to. Then I smiled to myself as I looked over and saw Alan's closet door. Salvation. I rejoined Alan in the kitchen wearing a red and white, plaid, long sleeved tshirt with a collar and the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled back to my elbows. I looked at Alan's face for any sign of emotional judgement about me taking such a liberty. To my relief - he smiled and his eyes wandered down to my legs. I was only wearing my black panties from last night that the shirt had failed to cover.

"Good choice." He mentioned, cracking some eggs into a frying pan. I spoke over the sound of their sizzling.



"Well, I took the hint from you. I hated being overdressed for the occasion." I smiled and touched my face delicately. "You like it? I call it "Trailer-park Couture." He laughed at the thought.



"At least it looks better on you than it does me." He looked down at his cooking and used a black spatula to turn the eggs over. "So how do you like yours?" He asked, taking in another glance.



"Oh, scrambled is just fine." I answered and walked to the table and sat down. I focused in on the eggs being scrambled infront of me. In short flashbacks, bits and pieces of the previous night ran through my head. He kissed me, carressed me, talked to me, whispered in my ear, moaned my name... suddenly Alan turned off the stove and scraped the eggs onto a plate and peppered and salted them. I blinked and noticed he stared back at me. I walked calmly to the table intricately placed in the house to go with its surroundings, more than likely picked out by Rima, and took a seat at the round table. Alan brought my eggs to me with a few pieces of bacon and a tall glass of water. I smiled warmly at him and frowned as soon as he looked away. This was someone else's man, I had to keep reminding myself. This is someone else's breakfest.



"You're awefully quiet, suddenly." Alan spoke as he cut apart his eggs with his fork.



"I was just thinking about last night." I picked my fork up and moved the eggs around. Alan stopped all motion.



"What about last night?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.



"You know as well as I do," I started to say putting the fork down. "What happened between us can never happen again."



"And where was this written?" Alan asked, putting his fork down as well.



"Well, I just don't think it'd be a good idea. It'd interfere with our work together, people are bound to pick up on something, you're already involved with someone." I don't want to fall in love with you if I can't have you... I trailed off the thought and tallied off my reasons with him aloud. He rose from his chair and walked across to me and took my hands together, and gently raised me to my feet. He looked me dead in the eye.



"Laney, I understand what you're thinking, but first hear me out: It wouldn't interfere with us working together- not if we don't let it. People always try to start rumors, that's what tabloids are for, they can be denied. And as for Rima..." Now his voice was trailing off.



"As for Rima?" I reminded him, trying to drag out a reason that would be plausible. But I thought I already had a grasp on what he was about to say, and sure enough, he did.



"What Rima doesn't know won't hurt her. The beauty of it is, nobody knows we've done a thing." He took his hands off mine and wrapped his arms around me, my head resting against his chest, hearing his heart beat.



"So, in a sense, you're proposing, formally, that I'd be what? A mistress?" I looked up at him. The thought sounded a little appealing, kind of dangerous even.



"If you'd like to call it that, yes, in a way." He muttered as he kissed my forehead. His words ran over me like rain. I almost choked on air. Me? Alan fucking Rickman's lady on the side? What about Rima? Well, it's true she wouldn't know. Alan did have points on everything. But still, I had to think about this. Then the phone rang. Alan let me go from the warmth of his embrace, and an inexplicable rush of cold crawled up my spine as I heard him speak.



"Hello?...Oh, darling, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon...Yes, I'm alone..."



What did he mean alone? I was right there! I wanted to throw my glass cup on the floor as hard as I could, just so he'd have to say "Something just happened, I have to go." I stood with my arms crossed over my chest. And I couldn't explain how I felt just then. I was angry, I was hurt, I was ...about to cry. I felt the tears rush in suddenly and blur my vision, I turned around slowly and calmly and started to walk to the bedroom. I couldn't bear to hear anymore of this. But, due to the lack of sound in the house and no electrical appliances on, his conversation was all I heard.



"What'd you say, love? You'll be flying out in two weeks? Perfect... Alright. Love ya, too, Rima. Alright. Bye." And when he finally put the phone back on the hook, the sound of it echoed through the entire place. I found myself sat on the bed, and yet, I didn't remember sitting down. I just heard the words he said to her and that was enough for me. He said that he still loved her, while I was right there. I grabbed my bag and pulled out my blue jeans and put them on. I glanced around for my shoes and without even bothering looking for socks, I put them on and started going out. I took a glance at myself in the mirror on a dresser. A plaid man's shirt, partially buttoned, and jeans with black sneakers, and I found myself ready to face the world. I didn't know where I'd go, I just knew, it had to be better than sitting here listening to this. I brushed passed Alan on my way out. Alan stood dumbfounded as I brushed across him harshly and headed out the Victorian door.



"Delaney! Wait!" Alan rushed out the door behind me, and once more grabbed me by the arm and turned me towards him just as I took my foot off the concrete and stepped into the road. "What did I say?" He asked quietly. Neighbors stared gathering their morning papers in their robes and here I stood in the middle of the street with a man I adored, yet couldn't have. Maybe it was because we were causing a scene, maybe it's because Alan in his haste, had left his rented home with boxers on and little else.



"It's what you didn't say, Alan." I commented, cutting my eyes at him in the morning sun. "I can't be involved with someone like that. I've had to go through too much infidelity already and I can't be the one to do it to someone else." All the relationships I'd ever been in flashed before my eyes. I was either left for someone else, or simply left without explaination. So I'd overthought another thing, but it seemed to be the most logical.



"I know how you must feel, but if you would just come back inside and we can talk this through." He said almost in a whisper. Maybe he said it the way he had to get my attention focussed, well it worked, but I wasn't coming in just so he could talk it to death, and end up getting what he wanted anyway. So, chances were he'd be crawling into bed with me putting his hands where they don't belong. And chances are he'd be putting his lips where they don't belong, either; but his chances were fairly high, I knew I wouldn't be able to say 'No' to him. I searched through my bag over my shoulder and pulled out my cigarettes and a lighter I'd 'borrowed' from Alan and quickly lit my cigarette with it.



"Fine, Alan, we'll talk right here. What do you want to talk about?" I said exasperated, already knowing what he wanted and was going to say. He brushed his hand through his hair, flustered.



"Things with Rima- they aren't what they ought to be." He said. "Please, I'd rather talk about this in the house." He pleaded, his eyes expressing a look of sadness.



"Fine." I followed Alan inside, preparing myself mentally for the temptations about to befall me once I stepped over that threshold. Alan pushed open the door and gestured for me to pass. I walked quickly inside and continued standing smoking my cigarette, I glanced at the table with the uneaten breakfest. "Well?" I asked angrily. Alan took a deep breath.



"Rima's been gone for about a month, about as long as I've been in this country. She's taken a position as a drama teacher at this big high-to-do institute I've never heard of, let alone, seen. But she insists it's real. I want to believe her with all my heart, after so many years, God, I do..." I shook my head pretending to look nonchalent. "And I just felt that she was cheating on me, so in a way sleeping with you-" He didn't need to finish. For being so articulate on screen, Alan really didn't have a clue how to handle these matters.



"Was revenge?" I concluded. "What a way to make me feel better. You know, you almost had me fooled and you turned out to be like everyone else. Geez," I took a long drag on my cigarette. He tried to speak again, but I cut him off with my hand gesture. "This is supposed to persuade me? Help you get revenge on a woman you're not even sure is fucking around on you? Well, this isn't some movie, Alan. Your words aren't consoling or comforting. Now, lets just skip to the end where we shake hands and part ways, and you call me a cab back to my reality check. Last night was a mistake. It's that simple, that's all you had to say to me." I was infuriated. He cleared his throat, and glanced to the floor then in the direction of the phone. He walked over to it and picked it up and started dialing a number. I sighed. "If you need me, you know where to find me." I stepped back outside and closed the door behind me. "What nerve he had! He's got something coming if he thinks he can treat me like a convienience store..." I sat down bitterly thinking thoughts, grudging him in every thinkable way. I even thought of calling Rima myself and confessing just to get back at him. I brought my knees up on the stoop of the porch. When I thought enough things and had a moment to calm myself, I bit at the skin on my fingers. I listened inside for any conversation. I heard his deep-tone walking from one of the house to the other, clearing his throat, sounding as though he were fighting back tears or was just angry at himself.



Maybe in truth, I was a little angry at myself too, inside. I knew ahead of time that he was involved with someone else, I knew what my alchohol limit was. I just got too careless. The door opened behind me, and Alan stepped out and sat with me on the stoop. I looked at his body, but didn't even glance at his face. He'd thrown on a dark blue robe, and tied it once he sat down.



"The cab should be here, soon. The company's only five minutes down the road." Alan spoke. I shook my head to signal my understanding. I took another drag on my cigarette. Exhaling slowly, I just wished he'd leave me to sit alone. Or at the very least sit in silence, even though I still melted at the sound of his voice. He could read a cook book to me and make it sound like poetry. He moved nervously, next to me and I could tell he was silently stammering. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Delaney, I'm truely sorry." I looked at the sky trying not to cry. He honestly hurt me, and I thought if I dished out my anger verbally, I'd be fine. But it wasn't. "Delaney," He started again. "Please speak to me. I don't want to part like this. Can't we still be friends?" I heard the cliche line and pursed my lips.



"I think we're a little passed that point, Mr. Rickman." I answered, ashing my cigarette to my side, and for the first time looking at his face.



"Delaney, damnit. I'm going to be frank. I want you. There's something about the way you are that fascinates me. Whether it's your oddly dyed hair, or the way you quote shakespeare, or how you think for yourself and your brutal honesty- I don't know. I just know I have this feeling inside, it's been there since I saw you look at me for the first time back at the studio. I feel some connection to you I can't explain." Alan looked like he was pleading with me, a new level of desperation overcame him I'd never seen anywhere before. "Where it'll lead- I don't know. I just want the oppertunity to explore that. Please, don't let what happened in there put distance between us." His accent became thicker suddenly, the pronounciations got clearer. I started seeing tears blur the corners of my vision. I didn't know what to say. Suddenly I saw my salvation driving up the street. A yellow taxi, that slowed up to the townhouse and stopped infront of the property. I stood up, hastily, taking my purse over my shoulder, and putting the cigarette in my left hand. Alan joined in standing once I rose. "Please, don't leave like this." He followed me to the curb begging for forgiveness that I had become deaf to hearing. I turned to Alan after flicking the butt of the cigarette into the street. I held out my hand as the cab driver rolled down his window.



"Well, those were some pretty words. Thank you for the lovely evening, I'll never forget it. And thanks for driving me home last night, Mr. Rickman. I'll see you at work." I walked to the cab door and opened it, and careful of my purse I slided down onto the white leather seats. "Give my love to Rima." I called as I closed the door. Alan said something to the cab driver and handed him something through the window then slowly I felt the velocity of the cab push me back against the seat as the cab began pulling away from the quaint, white brick townhouse, I'd developed a love-hate relationship with in just a few short hours.



I tried my best not to look back, but I did anyway. And the look on Alan's face just broke my heart as I noticed him curse himself from the sudden jerk of his head that turned him back to his house, and he stopped on the stoop we had just been sitting on to watch as we vanished from each other's view.



What an actor. He certainly deserved a nomination for the words he'd just spoken after such a rambling screw up he'd made. It was a nice touch, adding all of that just as I left to keep him in my mind longer than nessacary. I would never be able to watch an Alan Rickman movie again. I was deeply sorry I hurt him, but I couldn't tell what was the truth and what was simply improvision.



"Well, mame, where would you like to go?" The cabbie asked in a thick cuban accent, checking the expression of my face in the rearview mirror as I wiped a tear from my face that had fell from my eye without me blinking.



"Take me to 1675 Stillwater Lane. I wanna," I sniffed. "I just wanna go home."